


Keeper of The Underground, Dreamer of The Sky

by MozuTheMochi



Series: Memorytale [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, memorytale, still in fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6543625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MozuTheMochi/pseuds/MozuTheMochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like she refused to go out to her own world, the place she rightfully belonged. It's not about the attachment toward the underground that made her feet rooted. But the fact that she couldn't was the sole reason she simply wouldn't cross the barrier. Because Frisk... Frisk was already dead.</p><p>An inspiration from Alan Walker - Faded</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

" _Whoever said that loss gets easier with time was a liar. Here's what really happens: The spaces between the times you miss them grow longer. Then, when you do remember to miss them again, it's still with a stabbing pain to the heart. And you have guilt. Guilt because it's been too long since you missed them last."_

_―_ _Kristin O'Donnell Tubb_ _,_ _The 13th Sign_

* * *

"You're free now."

That's what she had announced to all monsters, declaring the news unlikely to be heard. Yet, she didn't mention her own self, she didn't muster the word _we_ in her memorable sentence when it had been so right, so accurate. Not that the rest of the creatures notice the grim soiling her expressions when they were too busy cheering. Not the least bit that she was hoping - although the tiniest spark of hope - anyone would.

She had lied after all.

Not to everyone, at the very least. But to her dear friends; she hoped they would be too preoccupied to remember a mere mortal like her.

Mortals, yes. That had bound her here, but the question was - why?

Frisk could never be free. Not anymore, at least. But her previous, accumulated years of gazing the empty skies above were sufficient enough to remember how the surface had looked before. Bright, azure and the land below bathed in the glorious shine of the sun. She'd missed them. But what could she do? This very situation was beyond her capabilities. That was a secret, of course, to wait until every bit of monsters evacuating through the barrier whilst she would remain in the dark forever.

It's not like she refused to go out to her own world, the place she rightfully belonged. It's not about the attachment toward the underground that made her feet rooted, the adoration she held to such a small and simply yet joyous land, even though up there she knew it was better and brighter and simply much beautiful. Above, it was the land humans had woven and carved and decorated with all their might, painting vivid and striking shades that overshadowed their monochromatic lives rather than dwelling with the tedious humdrum - as she'd observed here despite the warmth and comfort. But the fact that she couldn't was the sole reason she simply wouldn't cross the barrier. The chance of escaping.

Because Frisk. . . Poor Frisk, her true vessel was long forsaken on the bed of golden flowers. The vessel that held her soul, lying limp and weak and unconscious - because what remained was actually just the culmination of her very being.

Researchers did stated that humans' souls are capable of maintaining their souls without the need of a solid body, meaning that even after they depart from their own solid physique. Frisk had seen the rest of the humans' souls sacrificed to open the barrier - wandering, colourful souls - once she battled with Omega Flowey. They were still there, existing as a form of an inexplicable definition, whispering her regarding of hopes during her battle. They weren't supposed to do that. Logically, the dead remained dead. Monsters turned to dust, but through determination, humans do not. They remained, even with a pitiful form. Their original forms - the appearances they once had - of course, had dissipated, consumed by time.

Because time was cruel that way. Because time was what reminding humans regarding of reality. Because time marked limits - every beings had their own limits despite their nature given.

Silently, Frisk stood firm on her spot, enjoying the joie de vivre hanging around the air and sketching her friends' faces nevertheless. They're cheering and laughing, their wish had finally came true at last. Ironically, it was only something she could feel for a brief time before grief would befallen upon her once more.

The brunet whispered, inaudibly, each syllables spoken soft and slow by means to be directed upon herself only. Yet, the words meant a prayer for the rest. A kind being, trampled by her own good deeds. "May the skies brought joy to your lives." If anyone would have listened, it was the first time she had ever sounded so forlorn. Her voice watery and weak. Slowly into the shadows, Frisk retreated farther away from the freedom that she, herself, had casted.

* * *

In the throngs of festive creatures, a certain skeleton looked around. Curse his short height being a disadvantage in such critical moments. He'd been very delighted before, but the thought of his dear friend pulled him back to reality. The image of an olive-skinned youth disappearing from his visions. He searched for the human; it should be easy because she was the only human here anyway. Confusion began to consume his delight before, and panic crawled in his guts. His instincts - he trusted them more than anything - told him the circumstances weren't any better now that freedom was given away. There was something else. . . "Frisk?" He called out in sheer fright, in a shaky tone that sounded rare to his hearing.

But nobody came.

Nobody ushering toward his direction, asking why she was called. Nobody he was expecting at all.

Nobody heard him.

Not the person he muttered her name, not the person he'd hoped would hear. She disappeared within a blink of an eye. Wasn't she nearby before?

His brother had nudged him to follow, after all, three quarters of the monsters had finally went out. Left was only the bunnies from Snowdin, Burgerpants and people from the resort and the six of the main who was closer to Frisk than anyone else. But Frisk. . . Frisk was missing? Where was she?

She was the one who was supposed to celebrate this particular event. She was the one who saved them after all. She was the angel that brought them their freedom. Yet, she left just like that - or had she went out beforehand?

Sans had no idea that the angel was bound to be here forever.

* * *

Frisk could only bid her goodbyes from afar. Dark chestnut eyes clouded with tears, her hands wanting to reach out to her friends one last time. One more time. She looked down, a tear dropped to the ground below. Beneath her feet, a golden flower that touched her teardrop started to wilt.

" _Toriel, Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore. . . I'm sorry."_

One by one, the golden flowers around her dropped and wilted.

" _I'll always remember you."_

From her feet, her existence started to fade away. Olive-skinned turning translucent and then nothing, vanished from sight. Yet, Frisk was still standing although her legs were disappearing. She could only watched. What can she do? She was rendered helpless to a situation she never faced before.

At the very least, the process wasn't painful. Rather, it felt like a calming sensation crawling up to her chest. She watched silently as her arms began to disappear too. Like the wind was consuming her existence, a pair of chestnut eyes helplessly watched nothingness swallowing her fingers whole. Frisk smiled, reminiscing over the sweet memories she spent with the monsters. Scenes playing in her mind; the moment she took more candy than she should have, the butterscotch-cinnamon pie, the joy of solving puzzles, the chance of being in a reality show, the smiles of her friends.

" _Always."_

And then, she was never to be seen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Keeper of The Underground! I'm still new to this site but my friend recommended me to post my works here. My friend calls this story Memorytale because, well, you'll see it later. I've been really inspired by some snippets in Interstellar and the song Faded by Alan Walker. So, the idea tempted me to write it down, hence this story.
> 
> For those who asked me about my update schedules, I'd say it'll be random since I'm quite busy with high school. I'm sorry!


	2. Shadow

" _I love you every day. And now I will miss you every day."_

_―_ _Mitch Albom_ _,_ _For One More Day_

* * *

Asriel Dreemurr was used to the dread of being alone. He was already accustomed to the void in his heart, that being left in the underground all by himself doesn't feel as painful as Chara's betrayal before. Even though he didn't get to bid his farewell to his beloved family. He only watched them from a distance away before he made his way back to the ruins.

Soon.

Sooner or later, he'd transformed back into a flower. He'd turned back to a limbless being, as well as one devoid of any emotions. One that wasn't humane. One that had long forgotten the sweet taste of love and kindness, ironically he used to be when he still had his soul. Now, he was turning into a soulless creature, only filled with the need to cease his boredom. He'd become Flowey again. A sinful being throughout the history of the Underground.

What Asriel wasn't expecting was a companion. He didn't saw it coming at all, it was beyond his assumptions. Not that he's boasting his intelligence or anything, but being a flower before had taught him how to be observant. The familiar bundle of brown tresses, cut short to the shoulders, and droopy chestnut eyes gazing toward the golden flowers - or he could've described them as almost-dying golden flowers. Slowly, like a plague of some sorts spreading across the region, the fresh golden flowers curled and weakened and bent as if returning to its slumber.

Why in the world would Frisk be here?

She should've left. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was the one who fought him - twice and he never made the battles easy - and gained freedom for all monsters. Then why - of all people - why was she still trapped inside here?

Frisk noticed him. Noticed the odd look meant directly toward her. Noticed how his jaws worked, his mouth gaped and shut like a suffocating fish derived of oxygen. Noticed that he was speechless despite the look on his face, it told her many just by reading the creases written on his forehead. She said nothing, however, only pursing her lips and shifted her gaze back to the dying flowers. There was agony colouring her visage, the way her chestnut shades of pools lost in numerous thoughts - she almost seemed like as if she needs to burst into tears. Somewhere, deep inside, Asriel felt his remnants of empathy calling out to her. He could somewhat feel the vibes radiating around her; a very foul mood, her emotions in shambles, conflicted - was that guilt?

Asriel exhaled a cloud of air. "Frisk, you -"

"I know," she cut him before he could finish his whole sentence, "I couldn't leave."

Asriel heard. That really wasn't something to be heard from Frisk herself. The surface was where she belonged after all. What could have gone wrong? Unless, the idea clicked into his mind. As if Asriel had figured out the solution for an extremely tough puzzle.

Unless. . .

"Frisk, you. . . You're not really Frisk, right?"

For a moment, although brief that Asriel almost missed it, her expression changed to one glinted in sheer surprise. How observant, she inwardly mused. In the midst of her turbulence, she felt the amusement slipped in between, although just temporarily. The way his eyes widened matched her own at the moment before she lowered her gaze once more. Meekly, she gave him a languid shrug as a response he dreadfully waited. "Who knows? It's up to you to find it yourself," Frisk smiled and then proceeded to remain silent. The only sound visible was the rustles of the golden petals, dancing from the source of a non-existent breeze, as they began to wither to the ground and lost, mingling with thousands of others.

Asriel followed her position after he couldn't come up with an kind of response. The monster inched closer, hugging his knees as he did and curled his toes buried deep within the flowers that proudly loomed tall in their last moment. Occasionally, Asriel glanced sideways. Frisk was humming a tone he was certainly familiar with - the tinkling tune surfacing from the depths of his memory. The music from a box - ah, the one placed on top of the horned statue. A long time ago, he and Chara had found it when they had been playing around the garbage pile. Possessively, afraid that others might steal such a precious thing in the Underground, they hid it on top of the statue. Yet, the non-stop, perpetual rain had ceased the music - it seemed that it was Frisk, perhaps, had fixed it. Otherwise, the tune was only a secret for two.

Involuntarily, he found himself humming too.

"Hey Frisk. . ." he called out to her. He could feel it. His remnants of soul slipping by now.

"Hm?"

"I'm just going to stay here if you need a friend," said Asriel. The smile faded, Frisk's face returned to her originally stoic expression, yet her eyes were bright as if they were sparkling. The sign itself was enough for Asriel to know that she was contented for now.

"I know. . ." she whispered, "Thanks. . ."

The two of them continued to hum. The songs rose as echoes in the mountain, until for one moment, the meadows were silent and cleared and lonely.

The two of them had vanished.

* * *

Day twelve beyond the surface. So far so good. There was still a tinge of radiance around, Sans was certain of that. The monsters settled down quickly afterwards, blending with the humans nearby - who, for some, were fortunately free-thinkers and good-hearted. They were friendly, the villagers near Mount Ebott, and had invited the monsters in with open arms. They offered homes and lands and accommodations, even allowing monster-children to attend school to acquire the knowledge and educate regarding of the new world which had been concluded as _too large_ to the monsters. Of course, some others desire to venture other parts of the Surface. And so, they left as quickly as how they exited the barrier. Meanwhile, Muffet had already set up her bakery. It seemed like the spider pastries had became big sales, even though most of the times they were overpriced. And there was Grillby's. Much spacious than what Snowdin could offer. Instead of a cranky jukebox, the fire elemental had set up a karaoke session on Friday's nights instead. He heard through gossips that Mettaton was offered a position as a live show's host somewhere far. Alphys got worried but she became fine with it after a few considerations, by means that he'll have to visit Ebott village to get his parts rechecked. While Papyrus, his brother - well - didn't achieve his dream yet because affording a car like what he often visioned costed an arm or a leg. So, by now, Papyrus started to work as a chef in a fancy restaurant as one of the experts - as he exclaimed _proudly_ \- in pasta menu.

It didn't work well for him in the first day of his job, of course.

And yet, despite all the news he received about other, there wasn't a word about Frisk anywhere. Day and night passed, Sans still couldn't find Frisk. Not even Toriel nor Asgore, not Undyne or her girlfriend, definitely not his brother knew her whereabouts after their escapade - on which the monsters had decided to name it the Break-out. Sans was determined, but not even through gossips or telltales about their saviour. Not a single clue given, all the monsters were as helpless as Sans himself. Since the first ten minutes he'd been on the surface, the skeleton pushed amongst the busy throngs of monsters to look for his dear friend. He couldn't bother less about the sun the others were busy admiring, not when he's losing the human that lit the dark surface of the Underground with her own, unique radiance. Alas, Sans could only conclude that she disappeared. Perhaps, Frisk had left to her previous home. She was human after all. Although, deep inside, Sans had been hoping the brunet to give them farewells instead.

There wasn't any.

So, the skeleton waited once more. He waited for a week. Now, there was only two days left before the second drops by. Sans bitterly clenched his fists against the thought. Had Frisk completely left? Will his hopes shatter again? Although she might have her own rights to return, Sans viewed it as a form of betrayal - even though, he was in denial at the current moment. He admitted, if he had known the moment before she opened the barrier was the last, he would've made his words the best amongst all.

If only he had known. . .

Today, Sans didn't feel like doing anything either - not that he was doing anything particularly better in the past few days, nor the days before the Break-out. Most of the times, the skeleton would only linger in Grillby's or played his trombone or worst, doing his sock collection when in reality, he was just lazy to do the laundry. Papyrus wasn't exactly pleased. But mostly, he was in Grillby's since, according to Pap, he was in a state of not being _enthusiastic_ on the surface. There was a certain truth in his statement. Lately, he hadn't been cracking jokes and he wasn't as cheery before (Sans wasn't as _punny_ as he used to be, heh). Here, it's too noisy and the happy faces crawling into his memory started to irritate him. That was his opinion after three days of continuous revels. Drunkards, children, all flocked together like fishes in the sea (perhaps he shouldn't mention that out loud in front of Undyne, heh). Albeit, the various jobs he was offered and the invitations to parties and huge social events - Ebott villagers had the knack of hosting drinking parties many times per month - Sans didn't really felt up to it. Speaking of which, their mailbox had been piled with sorts of invitation cards and party flyers lately. Sans groaned, finally having the urge to let out his frustration.

Sitting at the far corner, he watched as the customers in the bar multiplied. By now, the bar providing the semblance of warmth and coziness had three-fourths of its taken. It's not even Friday yet. Humans and monsters were flocking about, once an exotic sight to behold. The regulars of Grillby's, the monsters who were once royal guards weren't quite pleased by the fact that most of their usual seats were taken by somebody else. Especially when Greater Dog wasn't able to play his self-versus poker game, and was only capable of watching two humans and one tree-monster playing the deck all by themselves. Sans saw the dog released a frustrated growl and left begrudgingly. Almost half of the villagers would stop by the bar during their free time, except for those who claimed they have better standards and rather prefer fine dining than having a taste of the greasy food. People like Undyne and Papyrus, who - strangely - weren't exactly those kind who'd be posh but brash and whimsical instead. He grinned inwardly toward his own muses.

Frisk would found it amusing, as well.

Sans immediately frowned. Remembering her had never tasted so bitter. Almost, he thought. Almost, Sans' curiosity was in par with the need to breath. He exited the overpopulated bar. It was a mess now, with too much people in it. Occasionally, Sans peered past smoked chimneys and tiled roofs to glance at Mount Ebott. Wisps of clouds shied away from its peak, as if knowing the secrets that lie beneath, the treasures it contained, the history. Until now, thinking about going back to his old home gave him the cold shivers. Sans nearly slammed his fists against the marbled counter.

Was it a wise choice to return?

There was a sense of dread hanging in the air, but Mount Ebott was calling. Singing his name, singing its welcome as the pit below outstretched and darkened.

Was it wise?

Perhaps. . . Frisk was waiting.

Frisk was calling him, he swore he almost heard her voice by the gentle breeze that blew past him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I am actually confused on how to write in AO3. Someone guide me please *cries*


	3. Echo

" _I'm scared if I stay, I'll keep looking back and never look forward."_

_―_ _Katie McGarry_ _,_ _Pushing the Limits_

* * *

For days, Sans had been staring past ahead the quaint town, past the forest to gaze about the stretch of the snow caped mountain with its name akin to the neighbouring village. He'd chill around with Papyrus occasionally but, of course, his mind was elsewhere - miles and miles toward Mount Ebott. Despite Pap's naivety and usual cheeriness, he couldn't help himself but slowly gaining notices toward his older brother's changes. It didn't look at all like a good change for poor Papyrus. If skeletons would have eyebrows, he'd been long gone with a concerned line that followed his suspicious stare from his eye sockets.

"Sans, are you alright?"

Poor Papyrus. He tried. He really tried his best effort to catch up with Sans, but his brother wasn't really being helpful these days - not that his laid back attitude did most good back when they were underground beneath.

"Yeah Pap, I'm fine," was his only somber response, on which the taller skeleton regarded as dissatisfying. Sans responded the piercing gaze with a shrug and only proceed to watch the telly. To be honest, he was fine. Desperate, clueless and lost alright - but completely _fine_ enough to function as a normal living.

Pap lowered his eyesockets, clearly disappointed with the lack of progress they were having for the past two weeks now. There was something wrong, he could feel it with the tension too thick in the air, but he wasn't able to grasp it.

"Well, you could talk to me anytime!" He resumed with an instill confidence that had always been a trademark, "I am the Great Papyrus after all!"

There was a small grin on his face, but nothing more than that.

Another couple of days went by with the same routine, yet Sans wasn't getting any better. To say the least, he was getting more thoughtful these days. Not a lift of his spirits. No pranks and jokes and puns. Not even Pap could help; with the banters with his friends, not even when Pap sacrificed his self-proclaimed standards to go to Grillby's (and Undyne wasn't exactly pleased about it, but Pap insisted with his common charms, that she would have to follow him in the _Make Sans Better_ operation). Still, it was of no better. Sans was, as if, buried deep in the ocean of his thoughts, surrounded with the memories of his dear, lost friend.

So, Papyrus - a stubborn lad he was - tried other things. Sleeping together, no progress. Groceries, same either. Cooking classes with Undyne - yet even with the chaos the duo made, nothing could stir the lad from his depressed state.

It was until one night, the situation took an unexpected turn of events. The tall skeleton was awoken to a slam of a door just beside him. He instantly knew who it was, obviously, since the occupants of the household were Sans and his own self. Cautiously, he exited his room to find out two things he wondered if he could call it surprising. First, Sans was gone - only Lord knows where he went. And the next point was, it was 3AM in he morning still brimming of stars illuminating the darkness, and the main door was left creaking to and fro by the gentle breeze. What on earth was he supposed to do in the middle of the slumbering hours? Papyrus was, by all means, curious.

But this was Sans, his older brother. Often in the Underground, he'd disappear in odd hours too. Papyrus shrugged the problem as no big deal, leaving his brother unattended.

Well, poor Pap. . . Maybe he shouldn't had been that ignorant.

When morning came, Sans was nowhere to be found in Ebott village.

* * *

Was it wise to return?

It wouldn't be that long, Sans dimly reassured himself. It would only take a couple of days, and no more past that. Yet, a couple of days were enough to inflict chaos to his friends and he meant no trouble actually. Sans only wanted to clear his thoughts, confirming that Frisk already returned home.

A puff of air clouded to the surroundings, the skeleton's mind full of conflict. Who would ever thought a monster - the community who desired nothing more than the surface - would still linger within the Underground that remained as memories? All for the sake of a human. He confirmed that he was the only one, that everyone else including Pap and even Toriel deemed that she had a home to return.

Yet, in his own perspective, it seemed illogical. Like, there was a lack of explanation if that was supposed to be the reality of the situation. Strangely, others seemed rather comfortable with that particular idea, Sans remained reluctant.

It was just a feeling. A feeling of deep remorse, a pulling in his chest that invited him to Mount Ebott once again. Early in the morning, he fled from his house just to find himself on the peak, hollow sockets staring straight to the dark pit. Humans sure are diligent, having to climb it without any sorts of mobility magic to make it easier. Whilst Sans only took a matter of seconds to make his way on top. Teleportation, surely the art of transportation.

"Welp," he shrugged, "It's now or never. . ."

Within seconds, Sans was engulfed into the dark abyss. He teleported his own self to the ground below, his shoes (Pap bought him a new one instead of those horrible bedroom slippers) touching the golden flowers beneath.

Except that, Sans noticed, the golden flowers were not as fresh as he could have remembered. Perhaps, it was because of the lack of care that made the flowers wilt. But the petals curled and withered and danced from a distant breeze seemed morose than untended, as if singing the parting song of someone's death. Maybe they were affected by Asriel's complete disappearance? Sans thought. But his chest hurts more, and he knew it wasn't about Asriel.

And then, he heard laughter.

Perhaps, it was just a distant echo.

Perhaps, it was something more.

But there was one thing Sans was certain of, that the sound of tinkling laughter - the genuine feel to the voice - belonged to no one else but Frisk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late update!

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Alan Walker's Faded


End file.
